


these kind of things can't be done alone

by shadowdance



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Gen, Minor Violence, Pre-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowdance/pseuds/shadowdance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(It's never, ever, usually planned, until the royal says "I want you.")</p><p>How every retainer got their job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one - hoshido

**Author's Note:**

> basically, two-part series feat. how the hoshidan and nohrian retainers got their jobs. (i'm not doing corrin's since he has like, five/six and in itself its quite confusing.) hoshido is part one, nohr is part two. i couldn't find anything on how Hinata got his job, so i kinda made it up (i'll be doing this with arthur, too.) if you know the reason how though, feel free to let me know!!  
> oh yeah, some support spoilers, and to an extent, story spoilers.

 

_i. Saizo_

He hails from Igasoto and a long line of ninjas all named Saizo. Most have remained as ninjas and/or bodyguards for the royals; there are a few slipups in history where some Saizos became a shinobi or a samurai, but in the end all of them have served royalty at some point. Saizo’s name never fails to pop up in the royal historical records.

So when his father dies, the older twin adopts the name—it’s a tradition—and travels to Castle Shirasagi. The high prince looks him over, and the queen lays a hand on his shoulder and says, “This is Saizo V. You remember his father—he worked for Sumeragi?” and Ryoma scrunches his face, trying to remember the ninja, before nodding. He takes Saizo V in with no further comment; no battle is required, simply because the ninja walked up to him and said his name was Saizo.

Whatever this Saizo’s name was before, it doesn’t exist. There is only Saizo, and Saizo is a retainer for the royals.

* * *

 

_ii. Kagero_

She’s been a retainer twice, and neither times were supposed to happen. She was _supposed_ to be a diviner and a guard at the palace with Orochi, but then her brother fell ill, and Kagero became the shadow he was supposed to be. This means she takes her brother’s job, which was to be Lady Mikoto’s retainer. While she is a sweet lady, and is always open to talk about Kagero’s family, there is a bit of a disconnect there. There is an awkward feeling in the air whenever they speak. Some of it has to do with Reina, too; while they are cordial to one another, they lack chemistry, which is somewhat required for two people to work as retainers. But Kagero and Reina prefer to spend time with other people or alone, respectively, and whenever they are together, silence drowns them like a river.

She is drawn to Lord Ryoma instead, and she admits it’s mostly because of his new retainer; he is a ninja, like her, and she hears that he’s gruff and rude but when she gets the nerve to speak to him the boy treats her with a lot of respect. She finds out his name is Saizo, and when Ryoma comes to investigate he looks at Kagero and says, “You’re the girl who filled in for—er, I mean, you’re Mother’s retainer, correct?” Kagero nods and feels her face flush scarlet. Ryoma, however, is impressed by her background, and insists that she and Saizo spar. They’re matched in skill, which makes Ryoma laugh. “Nice going,” he says, and Kagero smiles shyly.

Gradually, she spends time with them during her free moments; they talk and grow close and it’s kind of like Kagero becomes their third shadow, the one that can only be cast on palace grounds since she isn’t Ryoma’s retainer, and she can’t go on missions with them. She’s always the first one out, though, to greet them and ask them about their missions; Mikoto watches this silently for awhile, and then summons Kagero in her room.

“You’re not in trouble,” she assures the girl. “But I think you should consider working with Ryoma. I’m not going to be mad,” she adds, before Kagero can protest, “I just want you to be happy.” Which is kind of sad, since Kagero is supposed to make _her_ happy. But Mikoto has always been a selfless woman, so Kagero takes her advice and informs Ryoma.

It’s Saizo that convinces him in the end; he says, “Lord Ryoma, she’s been with us for awhile now, and we’re close in skill.” He keeps his eye focused on Ryoma, and the high prince considers this before taking Kagero in.

When she smiles at Saizo as a thank-you, she can’t see his face. But his eyebrows lift up, and she thinks he might be smiling back.

* * *

 

_iii. Azama_

The only reason he’s in the woods is because he’s journeying to find another mountain, and the only reason why he’s searching for a mountain is because his father told him to. He was thrown out of his family because he didn’t follow the standards of a priest; a priest should not be _cynical_ , his father said, and told Azama to come back when he was a changed man. Azama would not say he’s a changed man—nobody changes, not really—but his behavior would satisfy his father now. Probably. He has no urge to discover so, mainly because he enjoys scaling mountains. The sides are all jagged and make his hands bleed, but the top is smooth and quiet and offers great places to meditate. So Azama keeps going from mountain to mountain.

But in the woods, when the sun is going down, he instead finds an injured pegasus rider; blood seeps onto the forest ground, and her teeth grind together as she inhales and exhales sharply. Her hands are scraped and bloody, leg twisted at an odd angle, but her crimson eyes are sharp regardless. They catch Azama’s, and she snarls, “Hey—could you _help_ me instead of just standing there? My leg _kind of_ hurts, and I don’t intend to die here.”

Azama blinks, and his mouth slopes into a grin. Feisty, and no desire to die. He likes it—after all, he’s been living alone for so long that it’s a startling change to see someone else’s thoughts. So he helps her, more out of his amusement, which is probably not how a priest should act. Maybe his father wouldn’t be pleased with him after all.

“Your leg is broken,” he testifies, and pulls out his healing rod. The light is bright, full of magic; Azama is not _great_ with magic, but at least most of the power is in the healing rod, and he’s quite adept at healing. He mends the bone and then uses the rest of the power to close the cuts on her face, her hands, her legs. Eventually, the only remains that the girl was ever injured is the blood smeared on the dirt, which is hardly noticeable. She smiles, a little.

“Thanks,” she says. “You saved my life-”

“No,” Azama cuts off, stomach churning; he knows what comes next, and it’s pointless for her to give him something when he’ll just end up _dying_ and not using it. “I don’t want anything.”

The rider blinks, and then she grins. “You’re some priest, aren’t you?” she laughs. “I think you’ll make a great retainer.”

Azama figures that she thinks he’s a wise and selfless priest. She’s wrong—definitely wrong, considering his motives for helping her were selfish—but he’s just following the way the wind goes. So when she extends her hand outwards, he takes it. 

* * *

 

_iv. Setsuna_

She’s shooting arrows as per her daily routine, a blur of turquoise and arrows, and each one hits the marks. There is someone watching—someone is always watching, stunned that the clumsy noble who gets caught in traps can shoot so well—but she ignores them. She doesn’t realize it’s Princess Hinoka, mouth open and hands dangling over the low fence, who is watching. And it becomes evident she won’t realize it, so Hinoka makes herself known.

“You shoot as well as my brother!” she calls out, and Setsuna turns around; the bow clatters out of her hand, but she merely folds her arms—not bowing.

“Are you…mocking me?” she asks, and Hinoka’s eyes widen.

“That was a compliment!” she cries, which is kind of confusing, since Setsuna knows what a compliment is; it’s the other thing she prides herself in, finding the compliment hidden in the sharp words. But all she does is shrug, and Hinoka’s mouth lifts upwards. “Look, I want you to be my retainer. You’re a good shot,” she says, and her smile morphs into a grin. “And since I ride a pegasus, you’d be perfect.”

Obviously she doesn’t know anything about Setsuna; how the noble is just bad at everything, how she can’t cook, can’t focus on a hunt, and falls into traps for fun. But on the other hand, it’s not like Setsuna has anything more interesting to do, and she supposes it would be fun. “Okay,” she agrees, and then picks up her bow.

* * *

 

_v. Hinata_

He’s been aware of whom Lord Takumi was, long before he’s chosen. After all, Hinata’s parents serve the royals of Hoshido, and their reckless little son will be no exception. His parents bring him to the castle to get acquainted with the royals, so he’ll know who they are—that is, so Hinata won’t hate the royals, although Hinata hardly hates anybody so there’s no point in that. But he keeps his mouth shut and smiles anyways.

Princess Sakura is sweet but shy, and Prince Takumi is standoffish; he’s the complete opposite of Hinata. But they’re relatively around the same age, and Hinata finds him incredibly hard to impress. Naturally, this makes him want to impress Takumi, but no matter what he does Takumi fixes him with a blank stare, and silence runs between them thickly. No matter what Hinata does, Takumi appears to find it lacking. When Hinata’s father clamps his hand on Hinata’s shoulder and says, “I’m sure Prince Takumi will pick you as a retainer,” Hinata glances at the boy and wonders if his father is right.

One day he goes to the training grounds, where he spies Lord Takumi hovering near the outskirts. He looks bored, but Hinata doesn’t go to him, because today Hinata wants to practice his uses with the blade. He selects a wooden katana, and a bigger boy faces him opposite, and when the boy lunges Hinata does too. He takes the katana and strikes his opponent hard, slicing and rolling and it’s a little messy, with dust rising everywhere and stinging his eyes, but Hinata doesn’t relent until his opponent drops his katana. Hinata grins and wipes the sweat away, and that’s when he notices the prince staring at him.

“Do that much?” Takumi asks, and when Hinata shrugs, a smile slips onto his lips, although he tries to hide it. (Hinata hides his glee well—he finally got Takumi to smile!) “Do it again,” he commands, and Hinata turns around and wins for him.

A month later, he is chosen as Takumi’s retainer, and when Hinata sneaks a peek at the boy, Takumi smiles warmly back.

* * *

 

_vi. Oboro_

There is a naginata in her hands; once upon a time, it would’ve felt awkward, disconcerting in her fingers. But Oboro’s been training for so long, the long pole fits in her palms almost perfectly and it feels right, somehow. She wishes, not for the first time, that she knew how to use a naginata when the assassin came and –

Oboro’s fingers twitch, and she crashes the tip of the naginata into a dummy. It explodes with hay spilling out, and Oboro breathes hard, staring at new hole in its threaded stomach. She closes her eyes.

(It reminds her of the blood seeping out of her father, her mother—the blood smeared on the wooden floors, splashed on old and new cloths. Oboro crawled out, saw the blood, and screamed until her throat was raw, and when she shut her eyes all she saw were her dead parents, the image burned underneath eyelids.)

She opens her eyes now and finds herself gazing into light brown eyes; she squeaks and backs up, and Prince Takumi of Hoshido comes into focus. He’s handsome, definitely, and he’s close in proximity, so it makes Oboro blush a little. He doesn’t appear to notice.

“You’re pretty good. Not many people can break the dummies,” he notes, jerking his head towards the dummy. Oboro’s fingers tighten around the naginata; her throat constricts so all she does is nod. She can’t say that she’s thinking about her parents, but it quickly becomes apparent that Takumi knows anyways.

“General said you came after your parents died,” he says quietly—softly, even; the hotheaded Prince of Hoshido talking _softly_ to her. “I’m sorry. But I was watching you train, and you’ve got good form…look, I’m asking you to be my retainer.” He says the last words with a sorry expression on his face, which pisses Oboro off, but she accepts his offer anyways because it’s not something one would turn down.

But what _sucks_ is that she thinks—knows—that she’s only chosen because Takumi felt goddamn sorry for her. _Sorry_. And Oboro needs to prove to him that she’s strong, and that she’ll take down anyone who is in his way, and she’ll be fire and she’ll fight and she hurts. She needs to show him.

Well, maybe not just him. Maybe a part of her wants to prove it to her parents, too.

* * *

 

_viii. Hana_

She doesn’t take shit from the boy soldiers who jeer at her, laugh when she falls and scrapes her knees and comes back up bleeding. “Did the delicate flower just hurt her petals?” they sneer, and Hana ignores them, wiping the blood off her mouth and waving her hand so it splatters on the ground.

Her father once walked with her in gardens and he tucked a cherry blossom behind her ear. Then he pointed out a bright purple flower and said, “That is an aconitum flower. It may look lovely on the outside, but it is quite poisonous, and deadly in most cases. Don’t judge a flower by how pretty it is, because it can be hazardous. Flowers are beautiful and deadly. Your name means flower, Hana, and if anyone calls you weak, show them how deadly you can be.”

Hana adored her father. He was everything she wanted—still wants—to be: strong, kind, loyal, honorable. He was the best samurai there was and Hana dreamt of being like him.

(Hana’s father died in combat, struck down by an enemy. This didn’t make her want to stop being a samurai.)

Now, she just beats the shit out of the boys who talk down to her. Maybe it’s not the best approach to be a samurai, but Hana doesn’t take anything from them. They lose interest in her rapidly, anyways, since she can easily take them all down. As usual, their comments die when she takes down her opponent, and they become squirmy. Today, though, they fixate their attention on someone else—presumably another girl, Hana thinks, and when she hears the word _princess_ she goes to investigate.

Princess Sakura of Hoshido is pressed against the wall, and her eyes are wide and her hands are clutched against her chest. The boys are tossing stones in their hands and yelling ugly things. Hana pieces all of this together, and when she sees the boy raise his arm she jumps in front without a moment’s hesitation.

It hurts. Rocks hurt, and Hana only bats away a few with the sword in her hands. Sakura screams and her hands flutter, but Hana stays in front of her—like a bodyguard, like a retainer. She winces as every piece of stone breaks her skin, as blood trickles down her face, but she stays in front until the boys get bored and they walk away. Hana smiles at Sakura wearily, and then collapses on the ground.

The young princess of Hoshido heals her, because that’s what she’s good at. When Hana tilts her head up, Sakura smiles serenely. “You protected me,” she says. Hana can still taste blood in her mouth.

“You’re the princess,” she forces out. “It’s natural.”

Sakura chooses Hana as her retainer a few days later. There is a bandage wrapped around Hana’s head, but her smile is as radiant as the sun. 

* * *

 

_ix. Subaki_

The first time he meets Lady Sakura, he falls off his pegasus and lands in the dirt, effectively ruining his clothes.

Sakura stares, wide-eyed, and two red splotches form on Subaki’s face from beneath the mud. His parents have been retainers before him, and they were very successful—their lords lived long and happy lives. The bar was always set high for Subaki, and with the other retainer positions filled, Sakura’s final retainer remains the last available spot for him. Subaki yearns to show that he’s as good as his parents, that he can be as perfect as them—that’s all that’s expected from him.

Except now he’s blown it, and as the mud drags down his face Subaki feels tears prickling his eyes. Instead of laughing, however, Sakura kneels next to him and wipes the mud off his cheeks.

“Please be my retainer,” she says quietly. “I’ve heard that you’re a model warrior.”

Subaki goes thinking that the gods have given him another chance, and promises himself he won’t ever make a fool of himself in front of Lady Sakura again.

* * *

 

_x. Reina_

It’s not like she does anything _special_ , like Hana or Azama. All Reina did was rise her way through the ranks of the army, and she did that because her parents scoffed at the idea of their dear, simple daughter being a hard and courageous warrior.

(Reina is a warrior now. She’s known as the Bloody She-Devil and it’s not a reputation that serves her well. The fact she relishes being covered in blood doesn’t help matters either.)

Mikoto has heard of her tales in war. She’s heard of Reina being involved at a border dispute, where Nohrians closed in heavily towards Castle Shirasagi. Reina fought when others fell, and this is where she got the two slashes stretching on her face, courtesy of a cavalier’s blade. There was blood in her eyes, blood trickling down her face, but Reina stood her ground and drove off every last Nohrian until the only thing that remained was their blood. While she’s praised, she was also given a wide berth—probably because she’s too young to be that ruthless. Reina is only a sky knight at the time, and she was promoted to a kinshi knight shortly afterwards.

Mikoto makes Reina her retainer, too, after hearing of this tale. “I don’t care what anyone else says,” she explains, “and I need someone reliable, strong, capable. You are…” her voice falls, and then picks up: “You’re a very strong girl, Reina. I’m…proud of you.”

Reina agrees to become Mikoto’s retainer. But a part of her wonders, when she looks at Lady Mikoto, if the queen chose her because she acts wild and crazy, and in the sense that a queen cannot.

* * *

 

_xi. Yukimura_

Being the tactician of Hoshido, he’s spent long hours with Lord Sumeragi, and thus he gets to know the (new) Queen of Hoshido. Mikoto smiles sweetly at him every time they make eye contact, and always makes time to ask about his new inventions, new tactics. Yukimura tells her because she’s the queen, but Mikoto never seems bored; she always seems quite pleased whenever Yukimura talks to her. One day, she lays a hand on his shoulder and asks, “Could you please make a picture box for my son, Corrin? I’m so sorry if it cuts into your time, but I’m so busy with royal duties, and Sumeragi too…” her voice trails off, but her face glows when Yukimura assures her it’s no problem, he’ll definitely make one for the little prince.

And then Sumeragi dies and Corrin is kidnapped, and Yukimura cries when he hears the news. Mikoto does too, and weeps even longer, but Reina is there and Yukimura never witnesses Mikoto crying. Secretly, he’s relieved; he doesn’t think he could witness the queen’s beautiful face crumbling into tears.

He’s called into Lady Mikoto’s room, and he’s fiddling with the picture box when he comes in, which, in retrospect, is a terrible idea. Yukimura doesn’t know what he was thinking, but when Mikoto sees it, she winces like someone has stabbed her.

“Oh, Yukimura,” she sighs, “I just can’t bear to look at that, and I would prefer for it to be hidden for this time period. I’m so sorry for wasting your time…”

“You didn’t,” Yukimura says, and Mikoto bites her lip. Her crown is resting upon her bed, and it looks suddenly dull and colorless without the sunlight striking it.

“Please be my retainer, Yukimura,” Mikoto begs, and when Yukimura looks at her there are tears sparkling in her eyes. “You’re the only one left who was close to Sumeragi.”

It’s incredibly impulsive of her, which is something Yukimura has never seen from her; strangely, it’s this that springs tears in his eyes. “Okay,” he says, and then they both sit there, refusing to cry.

* * *

 

_xii. Orochi_

Nobody really likes her, mainly because she’s known as the diviner who always fishes the unlucky fortunes. She gets the royal guard job because she’s from a noble upbringing, but that doesn’t mean anyone has to hang out with her; it leaves Orochi feeling lonely.

It seems, though, Mikoto senses Orochi’s loneliness, because whenever Orochi is on break, she sits next to her and keeps her company, and when Orochi is guarding she always walks by and lays a hand on the girl’s shoulder, smiling kindly. In both cases, Mikoto always asks how her day is and strikes up a light conversation: _Have you seen Kagero lately? How are your fortunes? Pulled any good ones?_ Orochi’s responses are usually brisk and short, because she feels the other guards’ eyes on her; they loiter nearby and wonder how she, of all people, could earn Lady Mikoto’s attention. Orochi wonders too, as she watches the queen glide away, but she doesn’t say that she’s ungrateful. She’s far from it.

And it’s probably this that makes her become a little more protective of Mikoto. Though the queen already has two subordinates, Orochi slyly inserts her way within the two, akin to what Kagero did with Ryoma and Saizo; she does this to the point where Yukimura no longer gives her a reproachful eye, and Reina stops asking questions when Orochi follows behind them. Mikoto never minds; she just beams, as though she has just been waiting for Orochi to come. Gradually, Orochi’s guard duties dwindle down in favor of taking care of the queen, whether it’s brushing her hair or guarding Mikoto or helping her rebuild a razed town.

What officially does her in, though, is when she and Mikoto and her retainers are in the gardens, and an attack occurs on the castle. A ninja flings a shuriken at the queen. Orochi doesn’t _think_ ; her only thought is to protect Mikoto, and she jumps in front as a shield.

There is a lot of blood. It flows from Orochi’s stomach and she thinks she hears Mikoto scream, once; Reina and Yukimura kill the attackers, and before Orochi blacks out she feels someone gripping her hand tightly.

When she awakens, Mikoto is grasping a staff so tightly her knuckles are white. There are tear tracks on her face, and Orochi gets the feeling the queen was crying for her. “Lady Mikoto?” she asks, and her hand flutters to her stomach.

Mikoto looks at her, very solemnly. “What you did was very reckless, Orochi,” she says, and Orochi hangs her head. “I suppose I will have to keep an eye on you myself, to make sure you won’t get in trouble. You’ll be my new retainer, Orochi.”

Orochi’s mouth falls open. “You already have two,” she points out stupidly, and a smile creeps on Mikoto’s mouth; small and unsure, but _there_.

“I’m the queen,” she says. “I can have as many retainers as I want.”

Orochi can’t help it; she smiles.

“Thank you.”


	2. part two - nohr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> support/minor story spoilers again; essentially, the nohrian retainers this time. I'm surprised at how fast this got done, considering my usual update times ww  
> also i don't know how arthur came to be a retainer so i made it up ;o; if you know, pls tell me!

_i. Laslow_

He is the first of the mysterious trio that appeared at Castle Krakenburg’s door. Flirtatious and dreamy, but also very shy, he’s a little unnerved when the king studies him over and takes his appearance into weight. When Garon calls forth his eldest son, he commands, “Fight him.” Prince Xander rolls his eyes, but Laslow knows the dance of the blade quite well, and doesn’t back down when Xander draws out his legendary sword.

Nohrian blade movements are different from Ylissean ones, but that’s fine with Laslow; he’s already got that advantage, with tactics that Xander has never seen. He watches as the high prince’s expression turns from bored to shock to concentration, and when their swords clang together, Laslow sees the bead of sweat forming on Xander’s upper lip. He grimaces, and then shoves with all his might, and Xander skids backwards but doesn’t fall.

It’s a game now. Laslow thinks this as he starts to lift his sword, but then Xander is running at full force, and his sword catches Laslow’s, and Laslow is watching as his blade flies up, up, up, and he falls on his bottom. Before he can reach it, Xander’s blade is inches away from his throat, and Laslow gulps.

The prince tilts his head. “You’re strong,” he comments. “Not many people last that long.”

Laslow scoots backwards, out of blade-range. As he dusts himself off, Xander glances at the throne covered in shadows, and then nods. “Hey,” he calls to Laslow, “I think you’re going to make a great retainer.”

So it’s like an order, which Laslow doesn’t contest to. But he needs to stay with Selena and Odin, and then he has that _other_ job, so it works out. He smiles wearily, and yanks his blade from where it was stuck in the ground.

* * *

  _ii. Peri_

She laughs when she watches her opponent fall to the ground with a dull thud, kicking up dust in her eyes and blood seeping in her feet. He’s not dead, and Peri would _like_ to kill him but the contest rules are against it. And rules are rules, so.

Peri contents herself with beating everyone at the competition. She sees all of them sneaking suspicious glances at her, the tips of their mouths twisting, and she wonders if they are thinking about her mother. Her mother, so sweet and gentle and afraid of violence and—

 _How she was found in a pool of blood,_ Peri’s subconscious whispers, and Peri feels a tiny roar in her chest. When she looks up again, everyone’s eyes are red, and they come at her with death whispering on their lips.

Peri remembers, in the back of her mind, that this is a tournament. But her hands grip tightly on the sword, and she’s locked in a haze of red, and all she wants to do is _kill_. What keeps her from doing so is the fact that she recognizes none of their faces—none of them are servants in her household. So Peri only settles to knocking them out instead.

Two men defeat her, back-to-back. It kind of makes Peri want to scream, but someone places a ribbon on her chest, so she’s momentarily distracted. It turns out she’s placed third in this competition; not bad, Peri supposes, and fiddles awkwardly with it, wondering how she would look if she would put it in her hair.

Someone coughs, and she looks up.

“Who are you?” Prince Xander asks; there is something that looks like awe glimmering in his eyes, and Peri straightens in the presence of another noble.

“Peri,” she says, and her mind recites _P for pulverize, E for eviscerate, R for ruin, I for impale._ She made it up when her mother died; some say it’s gruesome, but at least it helps Peri remember who she is.

Xander nods. “Peri…aren’t you a noble?”

She nods. He crosses his arms, and a mild impressed look flickers on his face. “Third place,” he mentions, admiring the ribbon. “That’s good. I watched you out there, you know. I thought you would’ve beaten those men. I still think you can…you’ve got lots of potential.” He rubs the back of his neck and adds, “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I want you to be my retainer.”

Peri tilts her head to the side. “Will I get to spill blood?”

He thinks she’s joking around, she can see it is in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, voice laced with humor, “you will.”

Peri nods, and picks up her lance. “Okay,” she agrees. “I’ll be your retainer.”

* * *

  _iii. Selena_  

She is the second of the mysterious trio that showed up at Castle Krakenburg, and the only girl of the group. Vivacious, snappy, and competitive, she snaps, “I deserve the best,” and Garon sits back and gives her Princess Camilla of Nohr.

Selena likes Camilla; she’s strong, and she can take care of herself, but she knows Camilla is hesitant about her and her fighting skills. She can see it in Camilla’s eyes, the way she assesses Selena’s small frame, and bites her lip, a little unconvinced. This makes Selena mad; she’s the _best_ , how _dare_ someone even think otherwise—

“Train with him,” Camilla says, and she jerks her head to a mercenary wielding a silver sword and a smirk. He’s tall, very tall, and Selena only reaches his shoulder when she stalks over to him. Selena glances at Camilla, and is surprised to see a smile playing on her lips; she’s got something planned.

Well, then. Selena whirls around and slams the sword in her opponent’s face.

She attacks with so much viciousness that her sword is just a blur of steel and her hair falls in her eyes, but she doesn’t stop slashing until her opponent is on the ground, crying, covering his face with his hands. Selena sticks her sword next to him, and snarls, “What did you expect?”

When she looks at Lady Camilla, the princess is smiling and her hands are joined together. “Feisty,” she notes. “I like it.” She nods at the groaning mercenary. “He was one of our finest.”

Selena shifts on her feet and just nods. Camilla exhales, and offers a tiny grin. “Looks like we have a new best,” she says, and Selena can’t hide her smile.

* * *

 _iv. Beruka_  

She never fails an assassination, so she’s told to go kill Princess Camilla of Nohr. Beruka agrees and doesn’t ask; that is the life of an assassin, after all. Don’t ask questions, just murder.

She doesn’t know a lot about the royals, admittedly; she knows about the kings and his many wives, vying for his attention, but other than that Beruka knows nothing. She’s had tough assassinations, where the victim fights back; she doesn’t expect Camilla to be this way, since she’s a royal.

She has a wyvern, from a dead man; she stole it because he has no use for it anymore. Camilla sleeps in the west tower, her contractor told her, so she flies up and unlocks the window, slipping through. There is a dagger in her hands and an axe strapped to her back; her axe is identical to the one—to the one _hanging on the wall._ When a shaft of moonlight catches the edge, Beruka sees dry blood on it, black and oily on the header.

Beruka doesn’t feel a lot of things. But she feels something shoot through her veins, and she thinks this is what people call _fear_. She backs away from the bed, heels pressing lightly against the floor, trying not to breathe.

There is a noise, and Beruka’s head hits stone; she doesn’t yell, just sucks in the pain, and feels a sharp blade against her throat.

“I’m a daughter of a concubine,” Princess Camilla whispers, lilac hair spilling over her shoulders, “and I know how to kill.”

Beruka’s fingers scrabble against the wall; she wonders if they’ll bleed. Camilla leans in until their foreheads are touching.

“I can’t return until you’re dead,” Beruka blurts out, and Camilla rolls her eyes.

“ _Oh_ , darling. I will say, you almost got me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. “Most people die at the window. I suppose I was tired this time—a sister tried very hard to kill me today, and she was _so_ hard to take down.”

Beruka sucks in more air. The knife against her throat makes it hard for her to do so. She knows how to get out of these situations, she’s been _trained_ , but she just seems forget in the presence of the killer princess.

“I can’t return until you’re dead,” she repeats. Camilla clicks her tongue and ignores this, eyes traveling up and down Beruka’s body.

“You look strong,” she muses. “I like strong girls.”

Unexpectedly, she releases Beruka from the wall. The assassin doesn’t realize she had been pinned up high, and collapses on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. She straightens, and Camilla bends down next to her.

“How much is your contractor paying?” she inquires.

Beruka holds up five fingers. “I can’t return until you’re dead.” Like a mantra, it falls from her mouth.

“Just _hush_. I can pay more,” Camilla says. “You can be my retainer.” Her lips pull back in a scary smile. “I promise, you can kill.”

Beruka hesitates. She is apprehensive about taking this offer, that Camilla offers when she’s trying to _kill_ her, but on the other hand…her contractor is a dirty man. Beruka knows him to be untrustworthy, and he may not pay what he promises. Camilla seems trustworthy enough—honest, truthful. And Beruka kind of needs that in a job.

She nods, and Camilla throws the dagger out of the window. Neither one has a use for it anymore.

* * *

  _v. Odin_

He is the last of the mysterious trio that shows up at Castle Krakenburg. Even in the face of King Garon, he is loud and obnoxious and spews words that don’t mean jack _shit_. “I’m Odin Dark, and I am a Supreme Sorcerer!” he tells Garon, and the king pulls forth Prince Leo of Nohr.

“Odin will be your subordinate,” he tells his son, and Leo judges him quietly. Odin flashes him a grin, and Leo just shakes his head a little, chewing on his lip.

“Cast a spell,” he orders, and Odin’s grin falters, just a bit. “You’re a dark mage, I want to see you cast a spell. Then, _maybe_ I’ll accept you.”

Garon shifts on his throne but says nothing. Odin’s fingers tremble, but he pulls out a tome and murmurs the words on the page, like he has seen his mother do many times before. Thunder hums, loud and _alive_ on his fingertips, and Odin hurtles it at particularly nothing.

Dust smokes in the air, and something that looks like a wall crumbles, but when Odin looks at Leo, his mouth is curled in a small, satisfied smirk.

* * *

_vi. Niles_

“You’ve got ten seconds to beg for your life.”

Niles hadn’t known that Prince Leo of Nohr was skilled with swords; he thought he was trained in magic. But with a sword blade pressing against his throat, Niles realizes that he was quite wrong. Not surprising, since he’s wrong about a lot of things. Such as thinking that the little group of thieves would actually _care_ about him and his worthless life, and _they_ surely wouldn’t leave him as a decoy, a leftover for a heist gone wrong. No, they would come back for him, not leave him here at the mercy of guards, because they know that Niles hates begging for mercy.  
  
He’s wrong on both matters now. The sword blade is cool against his skin, even as Leo adds more pressure. Niles lets out a humorless chuckle and feels the weight of the blade rumbling with his voice.

“Stop fucking around,” he snarls, and something that looks like suspicion flickers across Leo’s handsome features. “I thought you wanted to kill me.”

“You don’t want to live?” Leo’s tone is surprised, but the sword still draws in deeper.  
  
“Life’s a little too _frivolous_ for me,” Niles leers, and the pressure on the blade relents. “What, you stopped pushing me? C’mon, Prince Leo. You can do it. You can’t kill all of the thieves, but my death will surely be repentant enough.”

“Shut up.” Leo removes the blade from Niles’s throat, and it clatters to the ground rattling. “You’re…certainly something.”

“I’m quite flattered that I _interest_ someone with such pure blood,” Niles replies, and recoils when Leo comes close again. “The thieves didn’t think the same.”

“Those thieves left you to die.” Leo glances at the shattered window, where glass reflects the darkness, not a star in sight. “Guess they respect your wishes?”

No, they don’t. Niles folds his arms and reminds himself that Leo has no idea about the thieves, how they left bloody marks on his face and left him hungry when he failed a heist, how they threatened him to torture hostages and put a knife to his neck when he refused-

“Camilla did it,” Niles suddenly hears Leo whispers, “so I think…” and when the prince notices Niles staring at him again, he extends a hand. “Come with me. I have something for you.”

Niles chews his bottom lip. He wonders what Leo has in store for him—maybe torture, maybe immediate death, maybe a slow burn, akin to what Princess Camilla is infamous for. There are thousands of possibilities, and in Niles’s mind, all of them lead to death.

Wonderful.

The thief takes Leo’s hand. He’s surprised to find that the royal’s hand is calloused and bruised, like his. 

* * *

  _vii. Arthur_

He becomes a guard for the Nohrian castle, originally. He’s inspired because he met a girl and the royal guards were very cruel to her. While they whisked her back to the castle, Arthur was whipped until blood ran down his back and dampened the streets. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t just, and he couldn’t understand why they hurt that girl so badly that she ran away. So he wanted to become a guard, to ensure that justice would _actually_ happen.

He’s unlucky, though. That’s the kicker. Morals are fine, but his luck is not, and Arthur screws up a lot of things—getting beaten up, falling in holes, losing maps and ending up lost. But his courage never burns out, and he remains friendly as ever, and always helps people when they are down. It’s the right thing to do, even if luck keeps insisting to avoid so.

He stumbles upon a little blonde girl, one day; she’s kneeling on the ground, cheeks pouty as she attempts to re-gather flowers that have been spilled. There is a tall boy, backed up by his friends, and they keep kicking the flowers, making it harder for the girl to pick them up. Sometimes they kick the girl, and she recoils but doesn’t shriek. Still, Arthur heads her way because she’s in trouble, the boys won’t stop teasing her and nobody wants to get involved.

“Stop,” Arthur hears the girl beg as he nears, “those flowers are for my father, and I have-”

“Have what?” the lead boy guffaws, and he picks up a flower and shreds the petals, right before her eyes. “C’mon, if you want ‘em, fight for ‘em.”

“ _Please_ ,” the girl persists, dropping her hands to her lap. There is a pink cloth draped over her head and shadows stretch over her face, but Arthur thinks he sees a glimmer of tears.

“Fiends!” he crows, and the ringleader looks up, surprised. “Leave the girl alone. She told you to stop!”

“Yeah?” the boy snarls, moving closer to Arthur, “and what are you going to do?”

What he’s going to do, Arthur doesn’t know. He hesitates, and the boy punches him, square in the jaw. Arthur staggers back, and _now_ the girl shrieks.

“Stop! Stop it!” she commands, but the boy doesn’t listen, leering closer to Arthur and preparing his fist again. Arthur ducks, reaches desperately for the boy’s shirt to pull him away, but his fingers claw a little short, and the boy kicks Arthur in the shin.

“You stop _right now_!”

The girl yanks the pink cloth off her head, and Arthur and the boy gape. Princess Elise, her small frame trembling with rage, points her finger at the boy and yells, “Leave him alone!”

Arthur notices that the boy’s friends have disappeared. He touches his jaw tenderly, and watches as the boy scrambles away, apologies pouring from his mouth. Elise is small, but she holds royal power in her little hands, and nobody wants to cross that.

“Who are you?” Elise turns to him, and Arthur swallows.

“I’m Arthur, Hero of Justice,” he says. Elise tilts her head, and suddenly bursts into giggles.

“You’re funny,” she says. “Wait—aren’t you a guard?” when Arthur nods, her eyes stretch wide. “Whoa! I’ve heard stories about you! Um…” she glances at the flower petals littering the streets, and then asks, “Would you like to be my retainer?”

Arthur sputters, and Elise giggles. “You can still be a Hero of Justice,” she says.

Arthur crouches down and picks up a flower. “Alright,” he agrees, and tucks it behind Elise’s ear.

* * *

_viii. Effie_

Her lance breaks the other knight’s armor. Again.

“Sorry!” Effie calls, as the knight drops his lance and watches the blood trickle down the dull, gray metal. A maid runs out, waves her staff, and rolls her eyes at Effie, who returns to the benches and places her lance among the others. She glances longingly at the castle, where she knows Princess Elise is walking among the hallways.

Effie originally never considered working in the royal castle. She’d always found the jobs there quite boring, and besides, she had to help her mother and try to earn a penny a different way. She knows that guards pay well, but honestly, even though Effie was strong, she wasn’t a fighter.

When Effie was trying to sell bread, she collided with a girl drenched in mud, the dirt smeared on her cheeks and covering her porcelain hands. The girl kept apologizing, even after Effie collected the bread and stood up; the girl had on a shawl that covered her face, but she looked slightly familiar. But whatever, she was very nice and helped Effie earn some money for her mother. Effie liked her a lot.

“Let’s go to the capitol,” she remembers the girl whispering. “I’m sure they’re hungry, and they pay really well.”

The guards weren’t so lenient about that, a poor merchant girl offering bread. They’d wanted to kill her for intruding, thinking she made up a ruse, but that was before the little girl revealed herself to be Princess Elise of Nohr. She saved Effie’s life, and was promptly forbidden from ever seeing Effie again.

Effie has never had anyone care about her life before. Her mother loves her, but she’s distracted with trying to make a living, so she’s not home often, and her father left when she was young. There was nobody that ever cared about Effie, and nobody she could care about. Elise is different. Effie wants to protect Elise—the princess saved _her_ , a commoner. She owes Elise her life, and the only way she can protect her is to be a royal guard.

She trained. She trained hard and long and that’s why she’s here now, although she hasn’t seen Elise since. Effie sighs and reaches for her water, wiping her forehead.

“—And this is Effie, one of our castle guards,” she hears someone say. It sounds like one of the commanding officers—she forgets his name—but she straightens and wheels around, plastering a smile on her face because the officer expects it.

Instead, her eyes meet a pair of violet ones.

Effie swallows her water forcefully and coughs. “Lady Elise?” she sputters, and Elise’s mouth falls open.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, and the officer raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “I thought—but—you’re wearing a castle uniform!” Effie opens her mouth to answer, but Elise suddenly shakes her head. “No—we can talk about that later. General, _she’s_ going to be my retainer.”

The officer glances at Effie with apprehension in his eyes, but simply shrugs. “Whatever you say, Princess Elise.”

Elise grabs Effie’s hands; Effie is not much older than her, but her hands are tiny and cold in Effie’s sweaty ones. “C’mon,” she says. “Let’s go for a walk, so you can tell me how you got here.” And then, because it’s Elise, a mischievous smile cracks across her lips. “I’m so excited that you’re here!”

Effie squeezes Elise’s palm.

“Me too.”


End file.
